1. tardistiles:



    Something I realised, after having to help many international tourists count out their change, is that American coins don’t actually have the number value on them??? Like no wonder all these poor tourists are so confused



    it just fucking says one “dime”

    what the fuck is a dime

    how much is it worth

    whose idea was this

    oh my god i never even realized that what the hell we all just sort of know what they’re worth through some sixth sense bullshit

  2. meatbicyclevevo:



Low fat yo

is no one going to talk about 1/3 fewer cries than the leg

fat free yortvitamins a




    Low fat yo

    is no one going to talk about 1/3 fewer cries than the leg

    fat free yort
    vitamins a

  3. haussofkm:



    The cutest thing ever.

  4. "You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it."

    Robin Williams

    Rest in Peace

    (via senyahearts)

  5. alternatve-to-what:




    there is not one search term here that isn’t magical

    i know ive reblogged this before at least twice but i decided to read through the entire thing this time and im in pain from how hard i am laughing please forgive me

    "Is wishing for murder illegal?"


  6. trebled-negrita-princess:



    cultural appropriation is putting fireflies in a jar

    and letting them light up your bedroom

    as you drift off to sleep.

    and when you wake up all the lights have flickered out

    but only when you’re older do you realize

    you slowly suffocated them so

    that you could enjoy their glow.

    that just knocked the breath from me

    Hopefully it knocks the breath out of those that DO IT so then they’ll REALIZE

  7. saintlukas:


  8. slavesnake:

    The VMAs are definitely Britney’s show.

    Even when she’s not there.

  9. mylifetimes5:


    Beck was a real friend

    Beck was a great everything

  10. "

    At our graduation party, he turns to me, still wearing his grad cap, and winks. I like the way you dance, he says. I have something to show you. Come to my car. I hesitate. I’m not sure, I tell him. All of my friends are here. Come on, he insists. Live a little.

    OK now he was close, tried to domesticate you.

    I walk four steps behind him to the driveway. I can hear the sounds of the party in the distance. Everybody I know is on the other side of the wall, but here, with his teeth gleaming, they seem so far away.

    But you’re an animal, baby, it’s in your nature

    He pops his trunk and pulls out a six-pack. Want one? he asks. I shake my head. He hands me one anyway. This is a party, he says. Have some fun.

    Just let me liberate you

    I pick up the bottle and gingerly take a sip. He downs his in one gulp. Then he leans forward and reaches out to where I am standing. He laces his arm around my hips and pulls me so I am leaning beside him on his car. Why are you so far away? he asks.

    And that’s why I’m gon’ take a good girl

    He begins panting in my ear and telling me how good I look in my dress. The dress my mother bought me for the occasion. I squirm. I try to break his hold. I tell him my friends are probably wondering where I am. I say, I want to go back inside.

    I know you want it

    He laughs. He puts his lips to my ear and tells me to have some fun. I feel his tongue slip into my mouth and go numb. My fingers begin to shake. I try to move away and he puts his hand on my stomach until it bruises and pushes me against the car, hard.

    I know you want it

    He puts his hand around my neck and begins kissing me. My tongue hangs there. I try to scream and end up only tasting him.

    I know you want it

    My legs go dead as his hand creeps up my thigh. I kick his shin and he smiles, then bites my lip before slipping his fingers behind my underwear. I squeeze my eyes shut. I dig my nails deep into my hand. My toes curl helplessly.

    You’re a good girl

    I feel him unbuttoning his jeans one-handed and using the other to completely restrain me. I think about how easy this is for him to do. I begin beating my head against the car, harder and harder. The thumping sound does not even slow him.

    Can’t let it get past me

    He is pulling himself out of me with a smile. There is no condom in sight. My underwear are ripped and at my feet. I look at my legs and notice I am bleeding.

    I hate these blurred lines

    With his arm still tied around my waist he asks, This wasn’t your first time, was it? My eyes are still shut. I do not say anything.

    The way you grab me

    The way you moved in that dress and your smile. Damn, I saw you from across the room. And the way you laughed at other guys’ jokes. If I didn’t get on that one of them would.

    Must wanna get nasty

    He grins. I knew I was going to get lucky tonight, but not as lucky as you made me.

    Do it like it hurt, like it hurt

    He lets go of me and I am hit with a sudden burst of air. I fall to the ground, heaving, as I listen to him open his trunk and crack open another beer.

    What you don’t like work?

    I’m going back to the party, he says. I lie still on the ground, feigning death. Are you coming? He reaches down to touch me and I begin to shake. Fine. Suit yourself. You should clean yourself up anyway.

    I know you want it

    I listen to his footsteps echo away. I try to sit up and collapse onto my knees. My limbs refuse to work. For the first time, I hear the sound of someone crying and choking on their breath. It takes me to realize it is me.

    I know you want it

    I roll myself to the front of the driveway and lie, with my head against the concrete, crying. On my legs there is still dried blood and cum. I open my mouth and nothing comes out.

    I know you want it

    I lie on the ground for the rest of the night, convulsing. I hear him
    come out hours later with his friends, look at me, and laugh. I listen to him tell them I must be another “shit-faced bitch.” I stay still. I dig my nails deep into my hand. I try to scream and end up only tasting him.

    I Hate These Blurred Lines | Lora Mathis

    In italics are the lyrics to Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines” (via lora-mathis)